


Heartbreaker

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Based on a Tumblr Post, College, Detroit, Everyone Thinks Katsuki Yuuri Is Unreasonably Gorgeous And He Does Not See It, F/M, Gen, M/M, POV Outsider, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri is five foot eight, shy, and one of the most gorgeous and heartbreaking humans ever seen in Detroit.thouhastnochill:#sweet shy katsuki yuuri who’ll help you with your paper #is also five feet eight inches of sex on ice but never realises it #of COURSE half the class accidentally got their hearts broken





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](https://thouhastnochill.tumblr.com/post/156831425514/kevystel-at-least-half-of-yuuris-college) tumblr post
> 
> this was a lot of fun to write!!!! :) hope you all enjoy

The first day of her first semester as a sophomore is gonna be boring. Maddie just knows how boring it’s gonna be.

She’s had a good summer. She worked as a cashier, and her mom took her to see her grandparents for a week over her birthday, but the empty time is kind of starting to grate on her. It’s kind of good she’s back, but the reorientation for her second year -

Well, it’s been boring, that’s for sure.

It’s nearing lunchtime, and she’s yet to see anyone she recognised from any of her classes from last year. The halls are devoid of anyone she knows, really, instead flooding with freshmen who are all too eager to be here. Their backpacks are bigger than Maddie’s whole life. They all take out pencil-cases and fancy notebooks, writing down everything anyone ever says. One of them, quite memorably, even got out a fancy video camera to record information about jobs on campus.

She’s managed to find a seat on a wall outside as clusters of younger students move around her. She was this bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this time last year, and now she’s not.

 **are you in????** She texts Lucie, hoping that she won’t have abandoned her to this torture.

 **Nah. Couldn’t be asked** Lucie texts back a few minutes later. **Reorientation?? Im good thanks**

**Yeah, fair enough. Stuck w/ freshmen... Freshmen everywhere :(**

**Lmaooooo** is all Lucie texts back in response.

Sighing, Maddie shoves her phone back into her pocket, taking it for the defeat it is. She has a few hours before her next talk, and she knows the cafeterias are gonna be flooded with newbies who will be all to eager to sit around the ‘cool sophomore’. She glances around, wondering if there will be anywhere she can sit around and not be bothered for a few hours. Thinking about it, she knows exactly the place. The rink.

The college’s ice rink’s a bit dingy, and poorly lit, and there are no windows - so there’s no hope of getting any natural light - but there are a bunch of usually deserted seats, and Maddie and her ex had been to see a few hockey games together there. On a day like today, no-one will be caught dead in there, so she shoulders her back and begins to walk.

The newly fallen leaves crunch underfoot, and she makes it in good time, pushing open the glass door and flashing her ID card at the guard. He nods, so she continues further in, dropping her bag from her shoulder into her palm as she enters the rink proper.

She expected it to be solitary, and quiet, and cold. She expected no freshmen. She’s - she’s kind of right.

It’s certainly cold, but there’s someone on the ice.

It’s a boy. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He’s wearing bright green in-ear headphones, skating in lazy circles, lost somewhere that Maddie cannot follow. As she watches, he picks up speed, throwing himself into a complicated looking jump.

He’s taller than her, and broad shouldered, narrowing down to a firm waist. His hair is lazily pushed back, like a supermodel, and of what she can catch of his features as he moves, he’s gorgeous.

Maddie’s happy to admit it: she knows nothing about skating. But holy shit, she’d learn more if it meant spending more time around this guy.

She grabs her phone out her pocket, and glancing around, snaps off a photo of the ridiculously hot dude to send to Lucie. **Hot guy in rink?????** she adds, adding several confused emoji to get the point across. Then, almost as if catching her by her texting, the dude spots her and slows right down.

He plucks a headphone out of his ear. His breath is coming out in sharp pants, hot air hanging in the air for a few seconds, and his cheeks are red from exertion. He skates over to the rink entrance easily, collecting something from the little wall there and clipping them on to the bottom of his skates. Then he straightens up, and begins to walk. Towards her.

Maddie is stood up before she even realises her feet have touched the ground. She flushes wildly, straightening her clothes and hoping he stops to talk to her, and kind of hoping he doesn’t, because _holy shit being that gorgeous should be illegal._

His stride is straight-backed; purposeful; none of the slouching that college kids seem to be known for. His eyes are dark, and as he steps closer Maddie quickly realises he’s even more perfect than she could have imagined. Maddie’s blushing goes up a notch, and she sits straight back down. Her inner monologue seems to have shut down, and she brings her hands up to hide her face in mortification.

The footsteps come closer, and closer, and then - stop.

“Um, are you okay?” says a voice, and she knows it’s gorgeous skater dude’s voice, because there’s no-one else in here. His voice is low, and there’s a hint of an accent - not enough for Maddie to identify, but enough for her heart to pound faster in her chest.

Maddie opens up a tiny gap between her fingers to glance up at him. Up close, his eyes aren’t just dark - they’re a rich, gorgeous brown, with the fullest lashes she’s seen. A hint of gold is flecked in here and there and a drop of auburn makes them shine. His skin is perfect; his bone structure is better. The tiniest hint of a smile plays across his full lips. He looks like something from a magazine, or one of those paintings about Greek gods. Maddie knows if her heart goes any faster, it’ll stop. “Yes,” she squeaks out, mouth dry, and doesn’t move her hands from their protective position. “I’m - I’m fine. Sorry. First - first day of the semester, and everything?”

“Ah,” says the incredibly gorgeous and attractive and kind dude, and he nods like he understands. “Well - s-sorry for bothering you.”

She can only tell he’s walking again by the faint squeak of plastic on the rubber mats. The moment she hears the outside door squeak shut, she slams her feet on the ground one at a time, squeaking into her hands. She’s so embarrassed - the gorgeous dude _caught her taking a photo_  and _asked her what she was doing_. Oh, God, she’s never gonna be able to speak to hot dude again. She’s never gonna be able to date any boy again. Her mom’s gonna be so disappointed, because Maddie is going to become a devout nun in some remote European mountain range and never interact with men again.

In her pocket, her phone buzzes, and she gets it out if only to share the mortification with someone else. It’s Lucie.

 **Oh my god** is all the text in response says, with twelve splashing emoji and an eggplant after it. Yeah. Yeah, that sounds about right.

* * *

Javier isn’t sure why he still lives in dorms. It’s existential crisis worthy.

Well, no - he knows exactly why he still lives in dorms: he’s an RA. Lowered rent and getting a bit of extra cash is always really nice. And, to be fair, these are the fancy, refurbished dorms, where the scholarship and international students tend to live. He’s an international student. He deserves to live here.

The reason he’s having an existential crisis at this moment in time, though, is because of the guy. It hurts Javier’s bi little heart to see a guy that gorgeous.

The guy is, without a doubt, objectively, an incredibly attractive person. He knows this - Javier feels the burden of attraction in his heart. No - the reason Javier is pining over the guy, is because of how he looks when he smiles.

The attractiveness goes up about ten times when he so much as smirks, and when he’s sat with Phichit, the blow-you-away smiles come out so often that the room would collectively swoon if they dared give the guy any idea of how gorgeous he is. He’s probably aware, if the flirtatious blinks and dorky glasses and messed up hair is anything to go by.

He sighs, staring at the guy. He’s so full of longing, Javier’s fork full of mac and cheese misses his mouth, and it rubs across his cheek instead. The embarrassment is sudden and cringeworthy, but then the guy laughs so loudly Javier can hear it from across the dining hall. His face lights up, as if his joy is all consuming, and Javier’s heart jumps in his chest. _Worth it_ , he thinks, grabbing a napkin and wiping away the cheesy smear.

“You’re staring again?” Cala settles heavily into the seat opposite, blocking Javier’s view. “I mean, grow some chill, dude. Ask him out.”

Javier shifts right on the bench and peers around Cala to get a clear view of the guy again. “Yeah, but - he wouldn’t be interested. Look at him. And then look at me.”

Cala turns and gives the guy a look, and then looks back at Javier, and then back at the guy. Her raised eyebrow reeks of scepticism. “Do you even know his name?”

“Y-yes,” Javier says hastily, meeting her gaze and nodding quickly. He only knows because Phichit seems to follow every human in Detroit on Instagram, and Javier had followed back. It’s not his fault if Phichit posts unreasonably attractive selfies with the guy. “His name’s Yuuri. And he’s a skater.”

“Hmm,” Cala says, and the eyebrow goes down a few notches. She turns back to her food and Javier. “I’m surprised. Pleasantly so, but still surprised.”

Javier bites back the retort that wants to make its way up through his mouth, and eats his mac and cheese instead. They sit in companionably silence for a few moments until Cala speaks again: “I know he’s gorgeous, but seriously, why don’t you just ask him out?”

Javier splutters, and it’s a miracle mac and cheese doesn’t go all over the table. He takes a long gulp of water to compensate. Cala just stares at him. She’s probably wondering why she even brothers sitting with him. At this point, Javier kind of wonders that too.

“I’m a dorky bi asthmatic loser,” he says slowly, using his fork to point from himself to Yuuri and back again. “He’s an internationally ranked skater, and he’s so pretty I can hardly stand it. He studies quantum neuro physics telepathic math, or something; I’m a lowly psychology student. You see the problem here?”

Cala shakes her head, but there’s fondness there. “If you get a chance,” she says, “you have to ask him out. In fact, if you get one and you don’t ask, I’ll never let you forget it.”

  
The opportunity comes a week and a half later. Javier’s about to submit an assignment. It’s early spring in Detroit, and the wind is blistering. He swallows, keeping a tighter grip on his papers as he heads towards the automatic doors that lead to his professor’s submission box.

It’s almost like a TV show, with how perfectly it happens. One of the sheets - the top one, that tells his tutor who he is and which assignment he’s submitting - blusters out of the tightly gripped pile. It spins lazily further into the building, and Javier curses under his breath, falling into a half-jog to keep up. There’s someone walking around the corner, though, and he watches in frozen horror as-

It hits them in the face. And stays there, gently buffeted by the wind.

The person makes an odd noise, and then slowly peels the piece of paper away from his face. Javier’s mouth drops open in horror.

It’s the guy from his dorm. It’s Yuuri.

His hair is messier than usual today; a scarf is looped around his neck and up to hide the bottom half of his face, and his cheeks are red from the chill. He blinks from behind his wide framed glasses. He tugs the scarf down with his glove-covered hand to reveal his mouth, which is even more plump and red and lush than usual. Javier wonders, in a moment of extreme weakness, how soft it would be to touch his bottom lip.

Yuuri blinks down at the piece of paper - neatly printed, A4, with Javier’s name and student ID number. He glances up at Javier, and it drags Javier back to reality. “Oh,” Yuuri says, and his confusion is the most ridiculously adorable thing Javier has ever seen. “Sorry - is this yours?”

Javier nods frantically. Yuuri offers it out, and Javier makes sure not to brush Yuuri’s fingers as he takes the piece of paper back. “Ah - um - thank you,” he manages. His voice is a good half-octave higher than anything he’s ever managed before.

They stand in awkward silence for a few beats and then Yuuri gestures to the outside world. “I, uh, better get going - I have practice. At the rink.”

He almost lets Yuuri go, but then Javier is reminded of Cala and her threat. It’s not an empty threat, and that’s why he grips Yuuri’s upper arm as he passes; opens his mouth to begin to speak. _Yuuri, do you wanna come and watch Parks and Rec with me?_ he repeats in his head, begging his mouth to comply with his brain.

All that comes out is a zombie-like groan. Javier’s mouth clicks shut.

Yuuri gives him a look, and it’s full of real concern and confusion this time. Javier’s heart simultaneously swells and breaks within his chest. “Are you okay?” Yuuri asks.

“Y-yes,” Javier responds, nodding desperately and hoping that Yuuri will please leave so he can nurse his broken heart. “I’ll - I’ll submit this assignment!” He bundles up his stuff and his shattered hope and staggers into the building, turning a corner so Yuuri won’t be able to see him anymore.

He doesn’t know if he can tell Cala. He’s not sure he’ll ever recover.

* * *

Dustin hates his past self.

A languages elective, right, that he has to take to fulfil all his credits. There’s a list of them: Spanish, French, Portuguese, Swedish…

Dustin chose Japanese.

A thing is, the lessons aren’t badly taught. The assignments are fair, and there’s a lot of worth in being able to have minor conversations in the language of your choice. Another thing is: Dustin can’t speak, write, or even guess at a word of it. So, last weekend at Theo’s house party, drunk as a skunk, Dustin loaded up Facebook and begged to see if anyone knew of a Japanese major, or someone who was partially fluent, who even passed this course. Any of those would be good.

Surprisingly enough, Phichit - who everyone seems to know of, Dustin included - had commented: _**Yuuri Katsuki** is a native Japanese speaker, and he has an 8.5 IELTS in English ^^;_

Dustin had, out of curiosity, clicked through to Yuuri Katsuki’s profile. It was pretty sparse - he had 50 or so friends, most of them names in kanji, no profile picture, and a picture of a poodle as his cover photo - but clicked ‘Add friend’ anyway. He’d been more surprised when Yuuri had accepted. They’d arranged to meet in the library, and Dustin was already very late by the time he walked through the door.

He spots Yuuri a few seconds after entering the double doors. He’s stood to the side. He’s shorter than Dustin expected - maybe five foot eight at the tallest, which is a good half-foot shorter than Dustin’s six foot two. His phone is held loosely in his hands, and it looks as though he’s watching a YouTube video. He’s still in a thick looking coat, and his scarf is half-wrapped around his face and neck, but it seems to have fallen off in his rapture at the video. His huge, dark eyes are wide behind his glasses; his lips are parted, as though he is concentrating heavily on what he’s watching.

Dustin steps closer, pasting a tentative smile on his face. “Ah - um - Yuuri?” he says, no small amount of nervousness clouding his tone.

Yuuri’s head snaps up, and pink flushes across his cheeks. His tongue runs along his bottom lip, and Dustin cannot help but follow its trail with his eyes. The phone disappears, bundled somewhere into Yuuri’s coat, and he offers a small smile at Dustin. “Ah - hi,” he says. His voice is a lot deeper than Dustin expected. “Dustin, right?”

“Yeah,” Dustin says. Shit. _My sister was right,_ he thinks despairingly. _No-one is one-hundred percent straight._

  
They find a relatively deserted corner, and Yuuri breaks out a notepad and pen. Dustin does the same, finding himself imitating Yuuri’s body language without even meaning to. He straightens up and coughs, meeting Yuuri’s gaze straight on.

Yuuri’s doodling something on his notebook. His eyelashes, Dustin notes, are ridiculously long from this angle. “You wanted to learn more Japanese in general, right?” Yuuri asks, turning his head and offering Dustin a smile before turning back to the notebook.

“Uh - yeah,” Dustin manages. His eyes flick down to Yuuri’s mouth and then back up at his eyes again. He wills the gay to go away, as if it can be removed by thought alone. “I’m a bit shit at Japanese, really.”

Yuuri hums in response to that, and then nods. “Right. Well, to start, do you know the alphabet?”

“Yep.” Dustin nods, running a hand through his hair self-consciously. He can look as good as Yuuri, right? He can. It seems almost like an impossibility, but he totally can.

Yuuri is watching him expectantly. When Dustin looks back at Yuuri, Yuuri nods, as though prompting him. “Go on, then.”

“Go on what?”

“The… the Japanese alphabet…”

“Ah! Okay. Sorry.” Dustin clears his throat, and tries to remember what his professor had drilled into them in the first class of the semester and then in every class since. “It starts with aah,” he begins, eyes flicking up to Yuuri’s for a second before flicking back to the notebook, “um… then ooh…”

Yuuri just shakes his head. “Um, no?” He pauses, seemingly thinking over his words before he speaks, and Dustin uses the opportunity to stare at him and also pray his lust away at the same time. “Are you just doing this to make me into a joke? I mean, I think we both have better things we could be doing than you pretending to know the Japanese alphabet to wind me up.”

Dustin opens his mouth to protest, and then sees the real hurt in Yuuri’s eyes. He feels guilty, and unreasonably attracted to Yuuri. The decision is a lightning quick one: he’s not going to force either of them through this. “Yeah, my friend set me up to it,” he says. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Yuuri seems downtrodden by it, and nods, staring back down at the notebook. “Well - I guess it was nice to meet you,” he says quietly. Dustin quietly collects his stuff and leaves, before he can make even more of a fool out of himself in front of an unreasonably gorgeous, force you to pray the gay away, Japanese dude.


End file.
